And so it came to pass that in a small, former ironstone mining town, a sigh was born…
I know, I know — not exactly the best start to a blog post, but I’m feeling especially uninspired today, so you’ll just have to grin and bear it. Christmas was nice. There’s no disputing that. It was quiet and relaxing, with a pleasant Boxing Day (the day after Christmas Day, for my American friends) trip to Whitby. But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to getting back into my old writing routine — the new novel already demanding my attention, nagging me to get on with it.
And so, Monday is pencilled in as Day One of My Writing Year. Yes, New Year’s Eve, which I’m even less inclined to celebrate than Christmas. New Year’s Eve but also the beginning of the week, and I like starting a new project on a Monday so…
At this point, I was going to write something about the tragic mess in Pakistan, but I’m not sure I have anything especially original or insightful to add to the other, far more informed commentaries, other than to lament the possible outcome. I’ll leave the causes and implications to the analysts, but I have my pet-theories, as I’m sure we all have.
To finish on a lighter note — Christmas TV. To the Manor Born, anyone? If this is the best the BBC can do, then I give up, I truly do. Badly written, badly acted nonsense with forced relevance and not even a whiff of nostalgia to save it. A good reason to cancel Christmas next year, in my opinion. Utter rubbish.
There. That feels better 😉
